


we will always see the sun

by weareonceinalifetime



Category: Little Mix (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, F/M, M/M, Past Perrie Edwards/Zayn Malik, Perrie Edwards & Zayn Malik Friendship, accidental lirry, actual great guy niall horan, and everyone else humors him because how can you not?, and zayn and liam are idiots who really need a heart to heart, basically harry loves cooking healthy stuff, earth mother harry styles, liam loves eating healthy stuff, louis makes assumptions, oh and harry works at lush, perrie tries not to fall for another one of her roommates, so do various members of 5sos and ed sheeran, the other three little mix girls make an appearance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-22 05:45:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2496650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weareonceinalifetime/pseuds/weareonceinalifetime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Liam's new yoga instructor friend from the gym makes Louis want to eat quinoa, Zayn definitely does not want to leave scratch marks all over Liam's back, and Perrie and Niall are not dating despite going on a lot of dates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In a nutshell, Harry went to a pumpkin patch and this is what I wrote in response. Updates will be every Wednesday, and if I actually stick to that you can thank Hayley and Ginger for kicking my ass.
> 
> Obviously none of this is even remotely close to being true.
> 
> Title comes from "Honest Songs" by Noah Gundersen.
> 
> Set in San Francisco, a city that holds a very special place in my heart.

This new health kick Liam’s on is going to be the death of all of them, Louis is sure.

“I swear, when you roast them on a baking sheet with some olive oil, they’re better than French fries,” Liam insists, chopping another Brussels sprout in half and tossing it into a large bowl. He points the giant knife in his right hand directly at Louis in his eagerness to prove his point, and Louis hastily scoots to the other side of the counter, nearly hitting his head on the open cabinet door in the process.

Zayn snorts, not bothering to look up from where he’s hunched over his Macbook at the kitchen table. “Lying to your friends is fucked up, Liam.”

“I’m not sure he’s lying, Zayn,” Louis says sadly. “I think maybe he’s been brainwashed.”

“Probably too far gone to be saved,” Zayn agrees.

Liam juts his bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout, looking ridiculous in a snapback and sweatpants with the apron Perrie had put in his stocking last Christmas, the one with fake abs that look annoyingly similar to his real ones. “You’ll take it back once you taste them.”

"Doubtful,” Louis tells him. “I think the only vegetable I’ve ever liked was those sweet potatoes with the marshmallow on top and brandy that your mom made for Thanksgiving freshman year.”

“I’m not sure it counts as a vegetable if there are marshmallows in them,” Zayn puts in.

“Probably not,” Louis says cheerfully.

Liam ignores them in favor of cutting up the rest of the Brussels sprouts, and Louis sighs happily and takes another sip of his beer. Drake plays softly from Zayn’s computer, and Liam is rapping along to himself under his breath, doing ridiculous little dance moves while Zayn pretends not to notice. The sun has just dipped below the horizon, but there are a few remaining golden rays spilling through the kitchen window, and it’s the sort of late September evening in San Francisco that Louis loves. There’s a bite to the air that wasn’t there this time last week, the leaves just beginning to change color and drift off the trees, pumpkin spice suddenly ubiquitous.

“Seriously, you guys are going to love Harry,” Liam says, now drizzling olive oil over the giant bowl of Brussels sprouts. Louis wonders whether he realizes that he and his guest are probably the only ones who will actually eat the things. “He teaches yoga at the gym and is an awesome cook. He brought me this pita with avocado once, and—“

Zayn makes an annoyed noise, and Louis casts him a sympathetic glance. Liam abruptly shuts up, looking a little wounded. “Sorry. I know you guys don’t really care.”

Louis hops off of the counter, sidling up next to Liam and standing on his tiptoes to sling an arm around his friend’s broad shoulders. “Hush, Liam. We love you, and you love Brussels sprouts, so we’ll pretend we like them so you can have a nice dinner party.”

“It’s not a _dinner party_ ,” Liam says, blushing absurdly and making Zayn snicker. “And I don’t love Brussels sprouts, they’re just a good source of nutrition.”

“Dinner thing.” Louis waves his free hand vaguely. “Whatever. The point is, we’ll do our best to make sure your weird friend feels comfortable.”

“We’re not assholes,” Zayn adds, rolling his eyes when Louis and Liam both turn to raise their eyebrows at him. “Not complete assholes, anyway,” he amends.

From the entryway, Louis can hear the telltale cackle of Niall’s laughter, followed by the clomp of Perrie’s worn combat boots as they make their way down the hall of the house the five of them rent together. When they appear in the kitchen, they’re still laughing, pink-cheeked from the October chill, a beanie tugged over Perrie’s blonde hair and Niall’s hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. Niall ducks his head, sneaking a glance at Perrie out of the corner of his eye, and Louis fights the urge to sigh loudly and say something snarky. It’s been almost a year and a half since Perrie and Zayn broke up, and all three of them have been telling Niall to go for it almost since then, but he’s refused to make a move—something about not pressuring her and not wanting to fuck up the living situation. It’s all very noble, and Louis appreciates the desire not to make things awkward in the house, but if the five of them had weathered Zayn and Perrie’s breakup without much trouble, he’s not particularly concerned about the consequences of Niall asking Perrie out.

“’Sup?” Niall greets, bobbing his head and taking a seat next to Zayn at the table.

“Whatcha cooking?” Perrie asks Liam, ducking under his arm to peer into the bowl. Her nose wrinkles when she sees its contents. “Oh. Okay.”

“You guys have no faith in me,” Liam laughs, bumping Perrie gently out of the way and going back to tossing the Brussels sprouts with olive oil.

“False.” Louis reaches into the refrigerator and fishes around until he finds a beer to pass to Niall. “We have plenty of faith in you. It’s the Brussels sprouts we don’t have any faith in.”

“The Brussels sprouts,” Liam says seriously, “are going to change your life.”

 

As it turns out, the Brussels sprouts end up burnt. Liam is just pulling the baking sheet out of the oven, a dismayed look on his face, when the doorbell’s weak, rusty chime echoes through the house.

“Fuck,” he swears, waving his hand furiously in an attempt to combat the awful smell coming from the oven. “That’s gotta be Harry, but my hands are full, and I can’t answer the door with burnt food, and—“

“I’ve got it,” Louis says quickly. “You deal with your Brussels sprouts, and I’ll go greet your crunchy friend.”

He takes another sip of beer as he heads down the hallway toward the front door, leaving Perrie to help Liam try to salvage the Brussels sprouts—she’s the only one of them capable of pretending they’re even the slightest bit disappointed that the nasty things might not make it onto the dinner table.

Honestly, he’s not sure why Liam is going to all this trouble for a friend from the gym, but ever since meeting Harry a few weeks ago, Liam hasn’t talked about much else. Usually, Liam’s overbearing enthusiasm for anything and everything that catches his attention is endearing, but in this case Louis is starting to get a little tired of it. After all, Liam does most of the cooking around here, and if he’s on a health kick, the rest of them have to go on a health kick by default. There’s only so much kale he can take, and if he hears Liam say the word “paleo” one more time, he’s going to—

Louis doesn’t have a chance to decide what he’s going to do, because just as he’s trying to decide whether it would be a more fitting punishment to confiscate all of Liam’s tank tops or to hide his protein powder, he opens the door and finds himself actually speechless at the sight before him.

“Uh, hi?” the guy on the front step says, scuffing his feet against the ratty welcome mat Niall had brought home ages ago—it says “Beer gets you in the door,” and more than a few times Niall has tries to actually enforce the rule. “I’m Harry? I’m here for dinner?”

Louis is too busy checking him out to answer.

“Is this Liam’s house?” Harry tries again, tilting his head, a bemused smile quirking his pink lips—so pink, Louis thinks, sinfully pink, actually. “Maybe I read the address wrong.”

“No!” Louis flings the door open, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to get out of the way. “No, you’re perfect. I mean, you’re at the right place. I’m Louis. Liam’s in the kitchen.”

Harry laughs, and okay, nothing is ever going to make eating Brussels sprouts worth it, but watching this guy laugh might make Louis hate it a little less. He’s tall and skinny, his legs encased in skin-tight black jeans, and he’s wearing quite possibly the ugliest sweater Louis has ever seen, a hideous light orange thing with brown polka dots. Best of all, atop his messy, shoulder-length brown curls is an actual flower crown.

“I hope you like burnt Brussels sprouts,” Louis adds, closing the door behind Harry and trying—and failing—not to check out his ass.

“I hope _you_ like squash,” Harry beams, holding out a paper bag. Louis takes it, opening it up to peer inside. Sure enough, there’s an assortment of mini pumpkins and gourds in an array of colors. “The decorative kind, I mean. I thought I could make you guys a centerpiece. Like, as a host gift?”

“A nice bottle of Scotch would have worked, too,” Louis jokes. “Or a cheap bottle of vodka, actually. We’re not picky.”

Harry frowns, and for a moment Louis thinks he’s stuck his foot in his mouth—it would be just like Liam to invite over a friend who doesn’t drink and forget to mention it until after Louis has already offered the poor guy alcohol. Then he laughs again. “I have a friend from the farmer’s market who home-brews this awesome pumpkin ale. I’ll bring that next time.”

“That actually sounds kind of amazing,” Louis says honestly, gesturing for Harry to walk ahead of him down the hall.

Harry looks back over his shoulder, nearly running into the wall in the process. “It is,” he says, righting himself and grinning widely at Louis. “You should try it paired with a walnut, goat cheese, and beet salad. Incredible.”

“I bet.” It actually sounds sort of awful, but Louis smiles anyway, because with Harry looking at him like he’s the best thing since whoever invented yoga, it’s impossible not to.

Everyone looks up when they enter the kitchen, Zayn already scowling—if there’s one thing Zayn is incredibly bad at, it’s sharing Liam.

“Look what I found outside,” Louis says grandly, placing a hand on Harry’s arm. Not as an excuse to touch him, of course, it’s just that in the two minutes Harry has been here he’s already proven himself to be sort of accident-prone. It’s a safety measure, really. “And he brought squash!”

“Harry!” Liam rushes toward the other man, arms already open for a hug. Harry tugs him in eagerly, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, and Louis’s heart stops.

Oh. _Oh no._

This is a date. A meet the roommates date, because Liam and Harry are dating. Sure, it _could_ be that Harry, like Liam, is just overly physically affectionate, and sure, Louis had wanted to believe that maybe Harry was flirting with him a little just now, but probably he had just been being friendly. It all makes sense—the way Liam has been talking about Harry constantly for the past few weeks, the sudden healthy living kick, the bright smile on his face and the arm that remains curled around Harry’s waist as he turns to face them.

“You’ve already met Louis, obviously,” he says, “and this is Niall, Perrie, and Zayn. Guys, this is Harry, my friend from the gym.”

He doesn’t say _boyfriend_ , but he doesn’t have to. Louis can read everything he needs to know in their identical sunny smiles and the way they’re standing, no longer arm-in-arm but still close enough for their shoulders to be pressed together.

"Anyway, dinner should be ready in ten,” Liam adds, clapping his hands in front of him and then pausing as if he realizes how dorky he looks with his apron. Harry smiles at him fondly. “Until then, get to know each other I guess?”

Zayn glares, Harry bites his lip, and Louis tries not to think about the way those pretty pink lips would feel on his skin.

This is so, so bad.

 

*

 

Overall, Liam thinks, dinner goes pretty well. They end up having carrot sticks instead of the burnt Brussels sprouts, and the fish he picked up from the wharf this morning is overcooked and underseasoned, and honestly he hasn’t quite mastered the art of cooking quinoa yet, but at least they have fun. Perrie and Niall take to Harry almost immediately, as he’d known they would—they’re both incapable of being anything other than friendly. Louis and Zayn, on the other hand, take longer to warm up, but by the end of the meal everyone is laughing and joking and Louis is regaling the table with a story about the time the entire ensemble cast of a local musical decided to stage an impromptu, rather tipsy flash mob at the bar where he works.

Liam stands to clear the table, and Harry immediately jumps up to join him, almost knocking over his glass of water. There’s something kind of adorable about his gangly coltishness and the way he seems so unaware that every move he makes courts disaster—it’s a contrast to the quick, sure way Louis moves his compact body, and it’s part of what makes Liam sure they’d be a great pair. Even as he reaches for plates off of the table, Harry’s eyes are on Louis, laughing genuinely at every word he says.

“And that,” Louis finishes, a proud grin on his face, “is the story of how I wound up playing a drag queen in the community center musical.”

Once the laughter has died down, Perrie stands up too, an apologetic look on her face. “Niall and I are actually going to head out.”

“You are?” Louis asks suspiciously. “Where are you going?”

Niall shrugs. “Uh, to get real food? No offense, Liam, but I ate half of that quinoa and I’m still not sure what it is.”

“It’s a grain!” Harry chimes in helpfully. “It’s gluten-free and high-protein, so like, really good for you.”

"And it tastes good if someone other than me cooks it, really,” Liam adds, trying not to sound hurt. He isn’t, not really—his friends aren’t healthy eaters, and while they’d been willing to give it a go for him, he hadn’t expected them to develop a sudden taste for kale.

Perrie suddenly wraps both arms around Liam, squeezing him tightly, and he hugs her back just as hard. “It wasn’t _bad_ ,” she says diplomatically, her voice a bit muffled since her face is pressed against his chest. “I just really need to balance all the healthy with a cheeseburger and some ice cream.”

Liam laughs at that, kissing the top of Perrie’s blonde head. “Seriously, go get food. At least we got you two to eat some carrots.”

“I ate at least four,” Niall promises, standing and pulling Liam into a quick hug once Perrie lets him go. “And the fish was good, really. Super-fresh.”

“Shut up,” Liam laughs, shoving lightly at Niall’s shoulder. “Go get your damn fast food.”

Perrie sticks her tongue out at him, already shrugging into a coat. “That’s the plan. Anyone else want in? Louis? Zayn?”

To Liam’s surprise, neither of them moves. “Thanks, but I’m fine,” Louis says, smiling a little tightly—enough for Liam to notice, but definitely not something Harry would pick up on. Liam has to hide his triumphant smile. It looks like he was right. Louis really is interested in Harry.

"M fine too,” Zayn mumbles, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’m gonna go out for a quick smoke, though.”

“I’ll come with you,” Liam blurts eagerly.

Zayn raises his eyebrows, but he shrugs, shoving his chair away from the table. “If you want.”

Liam bites his lip, unsure if Zayn really wants him around or not. The thing is, Zayn is hard to read, and while, after almost five years of friendship, Liam has gotten better at it, there are still times when he struggles. Right now is one of those times.

He really does want to, is the thing. He always wants to be around Zayn, even when he’s at his moodiest, chain-smoking Marlboro Reds and getting about a quarter of the way through fifteen new pieces in the space of a single weekend before deciding he hates all of them. Zayn is his _best friend_ , more than a best friend really, the only person who truly gets his adoration for superheroes and his desire to take care of the people around him and why, sometimes, he just needs to stop and breathe before everything becomes too much.

“C’mon, you guys can walk us out,” Perrie says, reaching for Niall’s hand and tugging him toward the door. It’s kind of ridiculous to watch the way Niall looks down at their interlocked hands, then back up at Perrie’s face before breaking into a huge grin and following after her. Zayn trails them, grabbing his leather jacket off the back of his chair as he goes, and Liam gives Louis and Harry a quick wave and follows him.

Niall and Perrie are already nearly around the corner when Liam gets outside, and Zayn is sitting on the front stoop, fumbling through his pockets for his lighter. Liam takes a seat beside him, close enough for their shoulders to almost be touching, looking out into the San Francisco night. Every now and then a car will drive by, but for the most part their neighborhood is calm tonight, the only sound in Liam’s ears the flick of Zayn’s lighter as he sparks it and holds it to the end of his cigarette.

Eventually, Zayn breaks the silence, his tone playful. “What are you doing out here with the smoker, Liam? Shouldn’t you be eating some fresh fall fruit drizzled with agave syrup or some shit?”

“Fuck off,” Liam mumbles, but there’s no heat to it, and he finds himself leaning closer to Zayn, their shoulders pressing together now, albeit with several layers of clothing between them. “I like being out here with you.”

Zayn turns his head to look at Liam, a ghost of a smile curving his lips. In the dim glow of the streetlights, his profile is softer, his lashes a full sweep against his cheekbones. “I like you too, Liam.”

Absurdly, Liam can feel heat rising to his cheeks, and while he knows Zayn can’t make out how red he’s gone, he still feels like an idiot. “That’s not what I said.”

Now Zayn is grinning, and he turns his face away to take another drag of his cigarette, staring out at the street when he says, “I know.”

 

*

 

“Pineapple?” Perrie wrinkles her nose. “On carne asada? _Really_?”

“It’s good, trust me,” Niall laughs, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. “If you hate it I’ll buy you something else.”

She hesitates, then shrugs. “It can’t be worse than dinner.”

“That’s the spirit,” Niall teases, accepting their meal from the cashier with a smile.

They take their food and head away from the taco truck, wandering down the street. They’re close enough to the bay that the fog has rolled in to shroud them, heavy and comforting like a favorite sweater. Perrie has lived in this city her entire life, knows it like the back of her hand. At one point she’d thought she wanted to get out, move to Los Angeles or San Diego or Miami or even another country entirely, but then there had been Zayn and her scholarship to the Art Institute and Jade and the boys, and somewhere along the way she’d realized her heart was here. Now, wandering the city at night with Niall’s arm bumping against hers occasionally and a plate of tacos in her hands, she’s surer than ever that this is where she’s meant to be.

Most of the parks are closed by now, and eventually they find themselves settling on the steps of a small Korean church, backs propped against the old wooden door, Niall’s face lit greenish in the glow of the convenience store sign next door.

“It’s cold,” Perrie says, tugging the sleeves of the hoodie she’d stolen from Louis down over her wrists and balancing the plate of tacos on her knees.

Niall grins, snagging a piece of pineapple off one of the tacos and popping it into his mouth. “Food might help.”

“Food will _definitely_ help,” she giggles, picking up the other taco herself. “I love Liam, but God, that dinner was awful.”

“Seriously, quinoa?” Niall groans, drawing out the syllables and pronouncing the _o_ in a way that would be guaranteed to make Liam wince.

Perrie picks up her taco, making a face as meat and toppings fall out of the opposite end, and takes a bite, relishing the sensation of food with actual flavor on her tongue. “Okay, you were right about the pineapple,” she says when she’s finished chewing.

“Told you.”

“Still cold, though,” she whines, blushing when Niall wraps his arm around her in response, pulling her in closer to him. He smells musky and woodsy, like the cologne he wears, and just faintly of beer thanks to the two he’d had with dinner, and his arm is heavy and comforting across her shoulders, his breath stirring her hair just a little when he speaks.

"Better?”

“Much,” she confirms, turning her head to nuzzle her face into his neck. She’s pushing her luck, really—they’re friends, roommates, but Niall has never given her a reason to think there’s anything more to it for him, and even if he had, she’s not usually this forward. But he’s sweet, and it’s cold, and lately, even more so than usual, she’s wanted to spend all her time with him, wanted his opinion on anything and everything, found herself coming up with excuses to visit him at work and bring him coffee in the mornings and curl up on the couch with him to watch Netflix.

She’s developing a giant crush on him, is the problem, and it really _is_ a problem, because she’s already dated and broken up with one of her roommates.

“Good,” Niall mumbles, his cheek pressed against Perrie’s hair. “Can’t have you freezing on me.”

 

 

“There are only two of us,” Niall laughs a few hours later, leaning over Perrie’s shoulder as she roots through the ice cream freezer at the convenience store a few blocks away from the house. “Four cartons of ice cream is kind of overkill, no?”

“It’s Ben and Jerry’s,” she explains, turning her head to look at him. His lips are parted, crystal-blue eyes sparkling with amusement, and she has to stop herself from trying to catch his mouth with her own. “Those are small containers. And I wanted to try all four new flavors.”

He shrugs, stepping out of the way so she can back away from the freezer, her arms full of ice cream cartons. “Weren’t you the one complaining about being cold earlier?”

Perrie just sticks her tongue out at him and heads for the checkout counter, eager to get home before the ice cream melts too much.

The house is dark when they unlock the door and make their way inside—Liam has work tomorrow, Perrie knows, and Louis had texted her earlier to say he’d been called in to help out at the bar—something about Calum showing up hungover. Zayn is probably awake in his room but working by the light of his computer so as not to disturb Liam’s rest. They have the entire downstairs, small as it is, to themselves, and they settle in on the floor in front of the coffee table, ice cream cartons spread out around them, Niall’s computer open and playing an episode of _How I Met Your Mother_ that neither of them is paying much attention to except to giggle at the outrageous one-liners.

“You were right,” Niall says around a mouthful of ice cream. “We definitely needed all four flavors.”

“What was that?” Perrie teases, leaning toward him. “I didn’t hear you.”

He reaches out to flick at her nose, and her breath catches. His hand skims along her cheek, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes and tucking it behind her ear, and then he smiles. “I said you were right. Happy?”

“Thrilled,” she jokes, pulling a ridiculous face and hoping he hadn’t noticed that for a moment there she’d almost thought he might kiss her. It’s not a completely insane thought, not really—in a lot of ways, Niall would probably be a better fit for her than Zayn had been. But she doesn’t want to go down this road again, is pretty sure the can of roommate-dating worms is better left unopened. She takes a deep breath, willing herself to ignore his bright eyes, his infectious cackle of a laugh, the way his guitar-calloused fingers feel around her own.

She can’t date another guy in this house. It’s not an option.

 

*

 

Louis wakes up to the sound of rain on the roof and not much else. The house is quiet for once—he can’t hear Niall strumming away at his guitar, or grunts and groans as Liam does an ungodly number of one-armed pushups, or the pounding beat of Zayn’s beloved rap, or even Perrie’s giggle as she watches an episode of whatever TV show she’s into this month. It’s just the rain and the sounds of cars passing by on the street, and while it should be peaceful, it’s almost unsettling instead. He loves that he lives with loud people, loves that even when he’s asleep in his room by himself, some part of them surrounds him. Waking up and knowing that not a single one of them is there is rare and disappointing, especially since he’d been hoping to bitch about the ridiculous night he and Jade had dealt with at the bar.

There’s something sticky on his forehead, and when he reaches up to check it out, he winds up peeling away a hot pink post-it note with Perrie’s handwriting: _Steal my secret junk food again and the next thing you’ll eat will be your own balls xoxo :)_

He cracks up, reaching for his phone and firing off a quick text in response: _Can’t you at least arrange for one of your hot fashion design boys to eat my balls instead?_ That should give her a laugh, and he knows her schedule well enough to know that she’s got a business class today rather than a design one, so she’ll probably be checking her phone a lot. Besides, he can’t find it in him to be all that apologetic. After last night’s quinoa, he’d needed that junk food.

With that sorted, he rolls out of bed, not bothering to put on anything more than the pair of boxers he’d slept in, and heads for the kitchen, intent on fixing himself a cup of tea. He doesn’t have to work until eight tonight, and the weather is just begging for him to curl up on the couch with some tea and Fox Soccer Channel.

The air downstairs smells like bacon, which is rare enough in this house—first of all, none of them likes cooking enough to do it on a regular basis, and second of all Liam and Perrie, who do most of the cooking, are both sensitive enough to Zayn’s dietary restrictions that they usually avoid making bacon in general even though he insists that it doesn’t actually bother him to see them eating it. Still, Louis doesn’t think to question it. Niall had been hungry before work, probably.

He’s not expecting to walk into his kitchen in his underwear and find Liam’s friend Harry leaning over the stove.

“Uh, good morning?” he says, and shit, his voice actually cracks.

Harry turns, a bright smile on his face. There’s a purple headscarf holding back his curls, and while it should look ridiculous, instead it’s charming. He’s got Liam’s Batman apron—a joke birthday present from Niall sophomore year of college—on over his jeans and sweater, and he’s holding a wooden spoon in his right hand. “Think it’s afternoon, actually,” he laughs. “Late night?”

“You have no idea,” Louis groans, looking around the room and praying that Niall’s normally-annoying habit of leaving his shit everywhere will turn out to be a blessing today. He spots a SFSU sweatshirt hanging off the back of one of the mismatched kitchen chairs and makes a beeline for it, giving it a quick sniff just in case. It smells a little of spicy Italian food, which suggests that Niall left it in the locker room at work at some point, but overall it’s not bad, and he shrugs it on over his head gratefully. Boxers and a sweatshirt seems infinitely better than just boxers if he’s inexplicably got Harry in his kitchen.

“Would tea help?” Harry asks. He’s back standing in front of the stove, using the spoon to stir something, but he looks back over his shoulder to ask, a hint of mirth in his green eyes.

Tea, right. That’s what he’d been coming down here for. “Tea is the only thing that would help,” he declares, already starting to stand when Harry waves him back into his seat.

“I’m the one commandeering your kitchen,” he says with a smile. “The least I can do is make you some tea.”

Louis settles back into his seat abruptly, running a hand through his messy hair and hoping it hadn’t dried into too much of a disaster after the quick shower he’d taken before bed last night. Not that it matters, of course. Looking awful in front of Harry—Harry, who’s almost definitely dating Liam, he reminds himself—isn’t a big deal at all. It shouldn’t be, anyway.

“Are you quite sure you can make tea to my standards, though?” he teases, watching as Harry fills the kettle with water and puts it on one of the back burners.

“Dunno.” Harry shrugs, and Louis has to drag his gaze away from the way that pink mouth quirks in amusement. “Why don’t you try me and find out?”

And surely he’s not imagining the way Harry’s voice drops just a little, the sudden mischievous glint in his too-green eyes, the wink he tosses in Louis’s direction that has to be meant just for Louis because there’s nobody else in the house, let alone in the kitchen.

_Liam’s friend,_ he reminds himself desperately. _Liam’s boyfriend_. Despite the cool temperature, he suddenly feels far too hot in his boxers and Niall’s sweatshirt.

"So,” he starts, clearing his throat awkwardly, and this is not him, not one bit. He’s never like this around boys, no matter how cute they are. “What _are_ you doing in my kitchen, anyway?”

Harry flushes a little. “Sorry, is it weird? I can go. Your kitchen is just so much bigger than mine, and Liam said I could try out a new recipe here if I wanted, so—“

“No, of course not,” Louis says quickly, hoping he doesn’t sound too eager to have Harry in his kitchen. “It’s kind of nice to have someone using the kitchen for once.”

“You guys really don’t use it at all?” Harry asks, frowning a little.

Louis shrugs. “I make toast sometimes? Liam can make lasagna. Every once in a while Niall doesn’t totally fuck up a grilled cheese. And I think Perrie made brownies from a box mix for Zayn's birthday in January?”

Harry’s laugh is like honey, a warm chuckle that has Louis grinning from ear to ear himself. “I’m going to have to make dinner for you, aren’t I?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t _object_ ,” Louis says slyly, doing his best to keep his tone from turning too flirtatious. _Liam’s boyfriend_ , he chants to himself, _Liam’s boyfriend, Liam’s boyfriend, Liam’s boyfriend_. He isn’t going to be that guy.

_He’s not_.

 

“I’m a terrible person, Zayn,” Louis groans, dropping his head onto his forearms and slumping dramatically in his seat at the outdoor café where he’s grabbing dinner with Zayn before heading to work. He’s going to stay like this forever, probably, far away from cute boys with dimples and great legs who are dating his best friend.

Zayn completely ignores his statement, taking a lazy drag on his cigarette. “Did you run here? You’re kind of breathing hard.”

“Did you not hear what I said? I’m _terrible_.” Louis lets his voice rise a little on the last word, drawing it out into a whine so Zayn will realize just how serious he is. “And I didn’t run, exactly. Jogged a few times, but that’s because I was so excited to see you.”

"You saw me this morning.”

"And I missed you,” Louis says reasonably. “Also, I needed to see you because I’m having a crisis.”

“A crisis?” Zayn huffs smoke out of his mouth long and slow, his lips pursed, and somehow manages to look like a Gucci model as he does it. Disgusting, really.

“A crisis,” Louis confirms, snagging Zayn’s box of Marlboro Reds and digging his own lighter out of his pocket. It’s a testament to how ruffled he must look that Zayn doesn’t protest the theft of his beloved cigarettes. “Do you want to know what I just spent the entire afternoon doing?”

“Probably not.”

Louis forges on anyway. “I spent it with Harry. Learning how to make spaghetti squash casserole. Did you know there’s a squash that turns into spaghetti when it’s cooked? Because there is, and it’s a great gluten-free alternative to pasta.”

Zayn just blinks at him.

“I spent three hours learning about spaghetti squash, Zayn,” Louis hisses. “ _Spaghetti squash_. And I had _fun_. I wanted to _stay_. I swear the words ‘tell me more about squash’ almost came out of my mouth.”

“So you like Harry,” Zayn says slowly, his lips curving into a smirk. “I don’t see the problem.”

“You don’t see the problem with the fact that I can’t stop thinking about how much I want to kiss Liam’s new boyfriend?”

He can see the moment it hits Zayn, his mouth going slack and his eyes opening wide. “Liam’s _what_?”

Fuck, he should have seen this coming. Zayn, for all that he’s been quietly and angstily in love with Liam for at least a year now, somehow seems to miss certain things, important things. Things like Liam and Harry pretty clearly being an item.

“Liam and Harry are dating,” he says.

Zayn lets the half-smoked cigarette in his hand fall to the ground, grinds it out with the heel of his boot. He tugs his beanie off, scrubbing a hand through his hair and then over his face. Finally, he looks at Louis. “You’re sure?”

“Mostly.” Louis shrugs. “When was the last time Liam invited someone over for dinner and actually tried to cook?”

“When he was dating Danielle,” Zayn says slowly, his shoulders slumping. “ _Fuck_.”

Louis scoots his chair closer to Zayn, slinging his arm around his shoulders, not sure what else he can do. Zayn rarely opens up about anything, especially his feelings toward Liam, but Louis is pretty sure the only other person Zayn has ever felt so strongly about is Perrie. “I’m not thrilled either, man.”

Zayn just sighs again, and Louis offers him a drag of his cigarette and rubs comfortingly at his shoulder.

This will all work out. He’ll make sure of it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know--updating every Wednesday has really obviously not happened so far. School and work have both been crazy and my grandpa has been having some health issues, but I'm hoping to get back on track soon.
> 
> Enjoy the update!

“Large half-caf latte for Andy?” Perrie calls, sliding a sleeve onto the drink and setting it on the counter, turning around to wipe down one of the espresso machines before Andy, who’s one of her more annoying regulars, can try to tell her about his most recent coin-hunting adventure at the Bank of America a few blocks over. It’s slow and a little boring tonight, but not nearly enough that she wants to get roped into that conversation.

“How about a medium vanilla latte with an extra shot for Liam?” a new voice suggests. Perrie glances toward the register to see Liam grinning at her. He’s wearing sweats and his hair is still damp, which means he’s come straight from the gym.

“I don’t know,” she says thoughtfully, already reaching for a cup. “I heard Liam’s sort of a health freak. I’m not sure all that caffeine is good for him.”

Liam snorts. “Trust me, he needs it.”

"Well, since you _need_ it,” Perrie teases, starting the drink and then coming back over to the register, reaching out to fix the bunched-up hood of Liam’s sweatshirt and waving away his money when he tries to pay her. “How was the gym? Did you bench press a few thousand pounds?”

“I was at yoga class, actually,” he tells her. Perrie has to slap her hand over her mouth to cover up her snicker, and Liam frowns, opening his eyes wide in his best puppy-dog look. “Hey, yoga is _relaxing_.”

The milk finishes steaming, and Perrie turns to finish off the drink, handing it to Liam and giggling a little at his grateful expression. “I’m gonna take your word for it.”

“Seriously, it’s cool,” he says earnestly. “Harry says hi, by the way.”

“He was sweet.” Perrie starts her own latte, knowing she’s going to need it if she wants to finish the sketches for her design midterm tonight. She’s off work any minute, but she’s planning to hole up in her favorite armchair in the corner and do homework until Niall finishes his shift at the restaurant in a few hours. “Adorable, actually.”

“You think so?” Liam asks thoughtfully, taking a sip of his drink and giving her a thumbs-up. After three years at the same coffee shop, she knows her lattes are up to par, but she appreciates the compliment all the same.

She shrugs. “Totally. Why?”

“No reason,” Liam says, but he’s smirking a little, and Perrie narrows her eyes at him as she takes off her apron. It’s past nine, which means she’s officially off the clock.

“Jes, I’m clocking out!” she yells over her shoulder, grinning when Jesy yells back, “Good, leave!”

Liam opens his arms for a hug as soon as she’s out from behind the counter, and she goes into it easily—he’s such a sweetheart that it’s impossible for her to deny him anything. She’d wanted to dislike Liam when she’d first met him, she really had, and she knew now that he’d felt the same way. He hadn’t wanted to share Zayn with her, and she hadn’t known how to feel about the fact that Zayn’s best friend was so possessive. There had been a lot of false starts and initial awkwardness, and things hadn’t really gotten better until they’d bonded over their mutual love of Batman after Zayn had fallen asleep during _The Dark Knight_. These days, he’s one of her best friends, and it’s hard to remember what they’d clashed about in the first place.

“You’re planning something,” she accuses as soon as they’ve pulled apart again, jabbing a finger playfully against his broad chest.

“Me?” Liam blinks innocently, but his grin gives him away. “I’ll never tell.”

“You’re lucky I’m nice enough not to push you. Are you heading home?”

“Planning on it, yeah,” he says. “I thought I could walk you.”

“ _Liam_ ,” she groans. “I told you—“

“You can take care of yourself, I know.” Liam grins, following Perrie as she leads the way to the loveseat in the corner. It’s her favorite place to sketch and sip coffee and think, and she’s spent countless hours curled up on it, enough that her coworkers and regulars tease her about not being able to get enough of the shop.

“You say you know that, and yet here you are,” she teases, plopping onto the couch and draping her legs over Liam’s lap when he sits down next to her. “Overprotective much?”

"Not at all,” he tells her. “Just protective enough, actually.”

"Ridiculous,” she scoffs, but she can’t keep the grin off her face as she snuggles deeper into the couch’s squishy cushions and digs through her bag for her sketchbook. “So tell me about your life.”

Liam rolls his eyes. “We live together. I think you might know more about my life than I do.”

“True,” Perrie agrees, flipping her sketchbook open and tucking a pencil behind her ear. Ostensibly she’s working on designs for her project, but interrogating Liam about his love life is much more interesting. “For example, I know you still haven’t told Zayn you’re head over heels for him.”

Liam nearly drops his drink. “I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Liam,” she says, softening her tone, “you don’t have to lie to me about it. Really, you don’t. It’s on your face every time you look at him.”

For a moment, she thinks he’s going to keep trying to deny it, and then his shoulders slump. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Perrie scoots a little closer to him, reaching for his hand and squeezing it tightly, lacing his thick fingers with her own smaller ones. “You won’t. I’m over him. Promise.”

“Are you?” Liam’s tone is doubtful.

“I am,” she insists, giggling a little. “It’s been two years. He and I have both dated other people since. Do you really think I’d still be living with you guys if I couldn’t deal with him moving on?”

Liam shrugs. “I thought maybe it would be worse if it was me.”

“Babe,” she says seriously, “if it’s you, it’ll be better.”

 

*

 

 

Liam slings his arm over Perrie’s slim shoulders, pulling her closer to him as they make their way down the sidewalk toward the restaurant where Niall works. She looks up at him with a bright smile, and he grins back, unable to keep his cheerfulness from showing and knowing that with Perrie he doesn’t have to. When he’d first met her, he would never have guessed that Niall’s favorite barista—and Zayn’s new girlfriend—would become one of his greatest confidantes. Now he’s not sure what he would do without her.

“I’m tired,” he admits with a yawn. “Dunno how you’re such a night owl.”

She shrugs, pausing as they reach the restaurant. “Free coffee, probably.”

"So,” Liam begins, shifting his weight uneasily from one foot to the other. “You’re not going to tell Zayn …”

“That you want to have his babies?” Perrie teases.

Liam flushes. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

She waves her hand as if dismissing his statement. “Adopt his babies. Whatever. I’m not going to tell him.”

“Thank you,” he says quickly. “Because really, Perrie, I don’t think he sees me that way anyway, and—why are you laughing?”

Perrie stops with her hand on the front door of the restaurant, glancing over her shoulder to grin slyly at him. “Trust me, he sees you that way.”

 

 

When Liam wanders out of the shower later that night in just his boxer-briefs, his hair still damp, Zayn is sprawled on his bed, headphones in, his gaze trained on his computer screen. His dark hair is tucked under a beanie, and his eyes are half-shut, like he’s close to falling asleep. Like always, he looks frustratingly attractive, and Liam does his best not to think about Perrie’s words from earlier this evening.

“Hey,” Zayn says, tugging one earbud out and sitting up to look at Liam. “How was the gym?”

Suddenly, Liam is all too aware of how very almost-naked he is. “It was the gym.”

“Yeah?” Zayn raises his eyebrows. “Thought the gym was your favorite place to be.”

“It’s not my _favorite_ ,” Liam replies, opening his topmost dresser drawer and digging around until he finds a t-shirt. “It was fun, though. I never thought I’d like yoga, but I kind of do.”

Zayn snorts. “Whatever you say.”

“One of these days I’ll convince you to try it,” Liam insists, pulling the t-shirt on over his head.

“Sure you will.” Zayn’s tone is agreeable enough, but Liam knows he’s being sarcastic.           

“What?” he can’t help asking. “You don’t like the idea of getting a little sweaty and contorted with me and Harry?”

Zayn’s face goes blank, and Liam immediately feels like an idiot—he’d thought it sounded funny, a little seductive, even, but then he’d felt the need to tack “and Harry” onto the end, and now he just feels like a creep.

“I’ll pass,” Zayn says carefully, and Liam turns his back, pretending to suddenly be very interested in his own hands. When Zayn speaks again, his tone is soft. “Liam?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you’re having fun with Harry.”

That’s not the point at all, but after his miserable failure at flirting, Liam doesn’t want to try to explain, so he just shrugs and climbs into bed. Zayn reaches over to turn the light off, and Liam spends the next hour staring at the ceiling before finally drifting off to sleep.

 

Almond milk is sort of terrible. For that matter, so is the pumpkin spice granola Harry had gotten him at the farmer’s market. It’s supposed to be a healthy breakfast to go along with his protein-packed green smoothie, but honestly, something about eating granola and drinking a healthy smoothie while watching Saturday morning cartoons just feels _wrong_.

“Kim Possible?” Perrie asks, leaning over the back of the couch and giving him a peck on the cheek. “I love her.”

“Watch with me?” Liam offers hopefully.

“I can’t,” she sighs, straightening back up. Her hair is pulled back in a neat ponytail, and she’s got her apron slung over one shoulder. “I’m going to be late for work.”

“Oh.” Liam fakes a pout, and she smacks lightly at the back of his head, giggling. “Kidding. Have fun?”

Perrie pulls an exaggerated face as she heads for the front door. “Sure. Loads of fun. Extra-hot soy lattes with no foam are _tons_ of fun.”

He’s not actually entirely sure what she’s talking about, so Liam just waves goodbye over the back of the couch, trying not to laugh at Perrie’s disgusted expression. She’s not exactly a morning person, and she’s never at her best when she gets scheduled for early shifts. Laughing at her probably isn’t the kindest thing he can do, but he can’t help it.

With a yawn, he settles back into the couch cushions, taking another sip of his smoothie and doing his best not to groan. It’s really, really bad—Harry had insisted that throwing a banana in with all the greens would sweeten it up, but as far as Liam can tell, he’d been wrong. The drink is healthy and protein-packed, sure, but it also tastes like spinach and protein powder and has the consistency of sludge.

Maybe next time he should try following a recipe.

“Morning,” a new voice slurs, and Liam looks up just in time to see Zayn plopping onto the couch next to him. His hair is messy and flops over his eyes, which are still half-shut with sleep.

“Morning, sunshine,” Liam laughs, hitting the mute button on the remote as the cartoon goes to commercial break. “How’d you sleep?”

“Not enough,” Zayn mumbles. “Never enough sleep.”

“Never?” Liam raises his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

Zayn nods rapidly, wrinkling his nose when he looks at the contents of Liam’s cup. “Positive. Dude, what _is_ that?”

“Oh. God.” Liam looks down at the smoothie, then back up at Zayn, trying desperately not to go red. “It’s, um, a smoothie?”

“And it’s safe to drink?” Zayn asks, taking the cup from Liam’s hand and raising it to his nose to sniff. “It kind of smells toxic.”

“So you don’t want me to make you one?” Liam asks, keeping his face completely straight. It’s a real effort, because he doesn’t have the best poker face, and it’s absolutely worth it for Zayn’s horrified expression.

“That’s really nice, Liam, but--” he starts, and then Liam breaks into a grin and his whole face lights up. “Fix me some cereal instead?”

If it was anyone else, Liam would shoot back that he should get his own damn cereal, but Zayn is blinking at him all sleepy-soft and hopeful, curled up on the couch in sweats and a t-shirt, and he’s never been able to tell Zayn no.

“Sure,” he agrees, standing up and stretching. He’s not wearing a shirt, just sweatpants, and it’s hard to be sure considering that Zayn probably isn’t entirely awake yet, but he thinks the other man’s eyes linger on his abs, which is gratifying given how hard he works out. “What kind?”

“Uh … Lucky Charms?” Zayn says slowly, his gaze finally meeting Liam’s. “Please?”

“Do we have Lucky Charms?” Liam asks, glancing back over his shoulder even though he’s already on his way into the kitchen.

“Niall did the grocery shopping.”

They’ve definitely got Lucky Charms, then, and sure enough, when Liam walks into the kitchen he finds the cereal box already open and sitting on the counter, which . . . he loves his friends, but how hard is it to close the cereal box and put it back in the cupboard? He rolls his eyes and pours a bowl of cereal for Zayn. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, he pours one for himself too. Fuck it. Cheat meal, or something.

Zayn’s smile when Liam returns with the cereal is sort of way more enthusiastic than the action really deserves, but Liam finds himself grinning back unabashedly as he hands his friend the bowl. “Most important meal of the day. Eat up.”

Shit, he sounds stupid. _Eat up_? Really?

But Zayn just smiles even wider, taking a bite of cereal and then talking around it. “Whatever you say, health freak.”

“Shut up,” Liam replies, and God, he’s actually giggling, because when it comes to Zayn he’s a complete loser. “I served you _Lucky Charms_. That’s not healthy at all.”

Instead of saying anything, Zayn responds by snuggling into Liam’s side, nudging up against him until Liam relents and stretches his arm over Zayn’s shoulders, letting the smaller man relax into him. On the screen the cartoon starts again after the commercial break, and Liam unmutes it and reaches for his own bowl of cereal, trying not to let himself get too used to this.

 

*

 

“Louis, you’re off,” Jade says, shooting him a look that can really only be described as jealousy, and Louis can’t help it—he lets out a whoop and drops the towel he’d been using to wipe down glasses, already heading for the back room to clock out.

His shift tonight has been hell, not because the bar is busy but because it’s completely dead. As much as he despises how rude customers can get sometimes, he likes interacting with different people and thrives on the constant hum of activity that usually pervades the bar’s atmosphere. With hardly any customers, he’d been forced to resort to actually cleaning, and it had made for a horrifyingly long six hours.

When he comes out of the back room a few minutes later Liam, Niall, and Harry are already sitting at the bar, chatting with Jade. Harry’s the first to catch sight of Louis, and when he looks up, his impossibly bright green eyes lighting up, Louis has to fight to keep his heart steady in his chest. God, this is a disaster.

“Who invited you?” he jokes, hoping to cover his moment of weakness with sarcasm. “Jade, I thought we’d banned Liam for his disruptive behavior.”

Jade snorts. “Yeah, Liam’s a real disruption.”

“Disruptively _handsome_ ,” Niall chortles, slinging his arm around Liam’s shoulders. Liam goes an unsightly shade of red, and Louis snickers. Harry watches with an amused smile playing at the edges of his mouth. For a moment, Louis meets his eyes, and then he tears his gaze away, leaning across the counter toward Jade.

“You should bring us food,” he stage-whispers. “I’m actually starving, Jade. And I worked so hard today.”

She raises her eyebrows, looking supremely unconvinced. “Did you? Because I seem to remember coming back from doing dishes to find you playing pool with Ashton.”

Louis shrugs, trying to ignore the fact that he can see Harry watching him out of the corner of his eye with a smirk on his face. “Isn’t Simon always saying that it’s important to forge genuine friendships with our regulars?”

Jade has known him too long to dignify that one with a response. “Fine. Giant basket of fries?”

“Do you have anything healthier?” Harry chimes in, and Louis nearly chokes on his own tongue trying not to laugh.

“Uh, nuts?” Jade asks, glancing at Louis like she can’t believe this person is real, let alone hanging out with him.

"I love nuts,” Harry says without a trace of irony, and this time Louis really does choke. Niall thumps him on the back encouragingly, Jade snickers, and even Liam has to duck his head to hide a smile.

Assholes, all of them.

           

“You know what’s so cool?” Harry slurs a few hours later.

“Spaghetti squash,” Louis says immediately.

“What?” Harry blinks. “No. I mean yes, but no.”

“Oh. So what’s so cool, then?” Louis leans closer to Harry, almost close enough for the taller boy’s curls to tickle his cheek. He’s got no idea what Harry’s talking about, and they’re both drunk enough to think that just about anything is cool, but somehow he’s still captivated by Harry’s sheer enthusiasm.

Harry goes quiet, his green eyes widening and making Louis think that maybe, just maybe, it has something to do with how very close their faces are. Then he bursts into giggles. “You.”

“I think you’re drunk,” Louis replies, reaching for his beer and taking a sip.

"I think you’re cute,” Harry whispers, and Louis swears he actually feels his heart skip a beat.

 _Liam’s boyfriend_ , he reminds himself, and God, how has he gotten to the point where he has to actively remind himself not to kiss his best friend’s boyfriend?

“Not as cute as Niall,” he blurts, resisting the urge to punch himself in the face. From the other side of Liam, Niall glares at him, but he soldiers on. “I mean, look at those cheeks. Don’t you just want to squish them?”

Harry cocks his head, studying Niall’s face like this is the most important decision he’ll make all night. “Kind of, yeah.”

"And definitely not as cute as Liam,” Louis presses, gesturing with his beer bottle toward Liam, who is hunched over the counter talking to Jade and not paying any attention to either of them. He probably really trusts Harry, which means Harry probably really isn’t coming on to him, which means Louis is just being disgustingly hopeful about his chances with Liam’s _boyfriend_.

There’s at least an eighty-five percent chance that he’s going to hell.

"Liam’s pretty adorable,” Harry agrees, but he’s smiling right at Louis, and his hand is on Louis’s shoulder, and his lips are wet from his beer and Louis feels sort of gross but he also feels like he’d like those lips wrapped around his cock.

“So,” he starts, licking his own lips nervously. _Just friends_ , he thinks frantically. “I’ve been thinking. We actually don’t know each other, like, at all.”

“That’s not true.” Harry’s voice has gone softer, less silly. “I think I know plenty about you.”

"Yeah?”

“Definitely.” Harry leans forward, his eyes bright in the dim glow of the bar’s lights. “I know you hate quinoa but are a good enough actor to fake liking it. I know you complain about this job a lot but you’d rather work here than anywhere else. I know Liam talks about you all the time and your opinion means more to him than anyone else’s because you’re like the big brother he always wanted.”

It’s the last sentence more than anything that stops Louis’s train of thought in its tracks, making him feel guilty all over again. He hasn’t done anything, not yet, but every minute he spends with Harry’s knee brushing his and Harry’s hand on his arm is another step closer to betraying one of the only people he knows has his back no matter what. He can’t be that person, he just can’t.

“We should head out,” he blurts, leaning away from Harry awkwardly. “Like, now.”

“Now?” Niall frowns, reaching out to rest a big hand on the back of Louis’s neck, squeezing lightly. Louis focuses on his friend’s touch, tries to use it as an anchor to ground him to his sanity. “You okay, man?”

Louis clears his throat loudly. “Yeah, totally. Just ready to go home. Who drove?”

Jade catches his eye and glances pointedly at Liam, whose hangdog expression is a dead giveaway that he won’t be driving anywhere in the next several hours. “I’ll call you four a cab. Try not to throw up on each other, yeah?”

This night just keeps getting better and better.

 

*

 

Liam is drunk, that much he’s certain of. His whole body is light and loose, humming with alcohol, and he squishes happily into the backseat of the cab between Niall and Harry, sprawled halfway into Harry’s lap. He hadn’t paid much attention to Harry at all tonight—he’d been too busy picking Jade’s brain on seduction techniques he might be able to use on Zayn. He’s a bad friend, ignoring Harry like that, but Harry hadn’t seemed to mind at all. Harry is smitten with Louis, and Liam knows that for a fact, because they’ve talked about it. It’s too bad Louis is being so weird.

Niall hums softly in his left ear, a chorus he can’t quite place in his current state, and Liam lets his head loll back against the headrest, closing his eyes as the cab driver navigates them out of the chaos of Castro Street and back toward home. Now that he’s out of the bar he’s suddenly exhausted, and all he wants to do is curl up and go to sleep.

"Harry should stay the night,” he says suddenly, opening his eyes and grinning eagerly at Louis. “Save him the cab fare and all that.”

“I don’t want to impose,” Harry protests, his already-slow voice even more slurred than usual.

“’S not an imposition,” Niall chimes in, overemphasizing his syllables like he’s afraid they won’t understand him if he doesn’t speak very, very clearly. “You’re, like, totally welcome. We have a couch. Or beds, if you’re a cuddler.”

Harry pauses for a moment, seeming to consider the proposition, and then his face splits into a slow grin. “Can I make you guys breakfast in the morning?”

It’s almost painfully obvious that the question is directed at Louis, and when he doesn’t respond, Liam jumps in. “As long as it’s not breakfast smoothies.”

“Hey now, I swear by those breakfast smoothies,” Harry laughs.

“So do I,” Louis says out of nowhere, and all three of them swivel their heads to stare at him. He offers a shit-eating grin. “I mean, I swore when I tried the one Liam made yesterday, because it was awful.”

There’s a long pause during which Liam’s bottom lip finds its way between his teeth as he chews on it worriedly, and then Harry throws his head back and belly laughs, and suddenly the four of them are howling with laughter all the way home.

 

“You guys,” Liam stage-whispers as he fumbles with his key in the front-door lock, “we have to be quiet. Zayn is sleeping.”

“And Perrie,” Niall adds. “She’s probably sleeping too. Or studying.”

“Right, Perrie,” Liam agrees. Perrie told him he should tell Zayn how he feels, but he still hasn’t figured out how to do that without changing everything.

Maybe there isn’t a way to tell him without changing everything.

He stifles a yawn, opening the front door and shuffling into the house. Niall heads past him and straight for the kitchen, while Harry and Louis move more slowly, completely wrapped up in each other. Harry has an arm slung over Louis’s shoulders and is leaning heavily on the smaller boy, who’s wound his arm around Harry’s waist and is grinning like he’s never been happier. Liam shuffles his feet, not wanting to interrupt the moment but feeling like it would be rude to go upstairs and pass out without saying anything.

“’M gonna turn in for the night,” Liam tells them. “Harry, you can crash in my bed or on the couch. Or with Louis, whatever.”

“Not with me,” Louis says quickly, and Liam frowns at him, watching Harry’s face fall as he steps carefully away from Louis. “I mean, Harry, you should probably stay with Liam.”

Harry clears his throat, his gaze trained on his own feet. “Right. Of course.”

If he was just a little more sober, Liam would say something to ease the tension, but his head is fuzzy and all he can really think about is Zayn, Zayn asleep upstairs, Zayn with his hair messy and soft and his covers pulled up to his chin.

“Sweet dreams, boys,” Louis practically whispers, not making eye contact with either of them, and then he’s gone, taking the stairs two at a time. Liam sidles closer to Harry, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“You okay?”

“I don’t get him,” Harry mumbles, giving Liam a quick squeeze and then stepping out of the embrace. “He’s been running hot and cold like this all night. Is he playing hard to get or something?”

“I don’t know,” Liam admits. “Louis is hard to read. I really do think he likes you, though.”

Harry sighs. “Maybe. Whatever. Can we just go to bed?”

“’Course.” Liam leads the way up the stairs and into the room he shares with Zayn, pausing in the doorway just to look. Harry makes a disgruntled sound as he nearly runs into Liam’s back, but he’s too enthralled with the sight before him to apologize.

Zayn must have fallen asleep while reading, because his bedside lamp is still on and he’s sprawled on his back on top of the bed, still wearing sweats and a t-shirt, his glasses crooked on the bridge of his nose and a copy of _Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix_ propped open on his chest. The whole thing is so sweet and peaceful and _Zayn_ that Liam can hardly breathe, and he finds himself crossing the room without thinking and carefully plucking Zayn’s glasses off of his face, folding them and putting them on his nightstand.

“You can crash in my bed,” he tells Harry, glancing back over his shoulder. “I’ll just join Zayn.”

“Is that a good idea?” Harry’s tone is cautious, but he’s already shedding his shoes and jeans and climbing into Liam’s bed.

“It’s fine,” Liam assures him, removing the book from Zayn’s chest before marking his place and then stepping out of his own shoes and jeans. He’s suddenly too sleepy to do anything more, so he just climbs onto the bed and wraps himself around Zayn, nudging him onto his side and shimmying both of them under the covers. Perrie had said to make a move, and this is a move, kind of. “G’night, Harry.”

“Night,” Harry replies, just before Liam turns the lights off and falls asleep almost immediately.

 

*

 

Perrie is still awake when the boys get home, holed up at the kitchen table with her business law textbook and a rapidly-cooling mug of coffee. She’s got a midterm tomorrow, and as it stands right now, she’s sort of convinced she’s going to fail. She tries, she really does—if she wants to have her own line someday, she’s going to have to understand the business side of things, hence the double major. But all the legal jargon tends to go right over her head, and she’s starting to panic just a little.

She’s desperate for a break by the time Niall wanders into the kitchen, his cheeks flushed pink and with a snapback covering his dark blond hair. His movements are a little slower and less steady than usual, the only sign that he’s been drinking, and she smiles as he drops into the seat next to her and reaches for her coffee, taking a long sip without asking. If it was any of the others she’d be annoyed, probably, but sharing with Niall never bothers her.

“That’s my sweater, isn’t it?” he asks, handing the coffee mug back to her with a grin.

“It was on my side of the room,” she says, reaching out to snag the snapback off of his head and settle it on her own. He makes a halfhearted attempt to stop her, then settles for just laughing. “Did you have fun?”

He shrugs. “I did. Not so sure about the others. How was your night?”

“Terrible,” Perrie groans, glaring at her textbook. “I’m going to bomb this test, I know it.”

“Nah, you’ll do great,” he tells her, his hands finding his way onto her shoulders. He begins to massage them gently, and Perrie slumps into the touch, letting her eyes drift shut as his thick fingers work at the knotted muscles. She hates admitting to stress, always wants to put a positive spin on things, but the truth is that this class is driving her crazy. Niall’s encouragement right now is exactly what she needs.

“I’m not so sure,” she admits, unable to stop herself from letting out a breathy little moan as one of Niall’s fingers digs into a particularly sensitive spot. “That feels really good.”

For a moment his hands still on her shoulders, and then he continues, his voice a little less steady when he says, “Seriously, you’ll be fine. You’ve been studying like crazy, and you’re such a hard worker. You’ll do amazing, babe.”

Niall might be the only one of them who’s drunk, but somehow Perrie feels intoxicated too, and when she turns her head to look at him he’s so close, making it easy for her to lean in closer to him until their foreheads are tilted together and she can feel his breath ghosting over her lips. She closes her eyes, waiting, and then—

“ _Perrie_ ,” he groans, and it’s ragged, desperate, and she’s sure he’s going to kiss her, but instead he pulls back, his chair scraping loudly against the tiles of the kitchen floor. “Fuck, Perrie, I’m sorry.”

She ducks her head, not quite sure why she can feel tears stinging the corners of her eyes. “I’m sorry, too. That was stupid. We just …”

“I’m drunk and you’re tired,” he fills in, and he’s smiling but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Right,” she echoes. He’s right. Neither of them is thinking clearly, and letting something happen would have been a huge mistake.

So why does she wish he hadn’t stopped?

 

*

 

Louis is not avoiding Harry. He’s really, really not, because that would imply that he has a reason to avoid Harry, that he’d somehow rejected him, which is impossible because there is nothing between him and Harry for him to have rejected. He’d been drunk and a little rude, but so had everyone else, so there is nothing to apologize for and no reason to avoid Harry.

He’s definitely avoiding Harry.

It’s been almost a week since they’ve interacted beyond a simple greeting, even though Harry’s been spending more and more time at the house—more time with Liam, but he’s also got Perrie teaching him how to knit and Niall suggesting that the two of them go on a beer tasting sometime. Even Zayn has warmed up to Harry a bit, which just leaves Louis as the odd man out, and for the worst reason. He feels like an ass, he does, but every time he’s around Harry he wants to kiss him, and that’s not an option, so really, the best thing to do is just to stay far away. At first Harry had pushed it a little, had tried to include Louis in conversations, but after a few days he’d gotten the hint and stopped making the effort.

The worst part is knowing that Liam is disappointed in him. He hasn’t said anything, but every now and then Louis can sense it in the way Liam looks at him, and it’s making him feel guilty as hell. Liam is the last person he’d ever want to disappoint, but he can’t very well explain to him why he has to keep his distance from Harry.

He’s watching a soccer game with Niall when the doorbell rings, and when he hops up to answer it, the sight on the other side is déjà vu—Harry’s standing there with a backpack slung over his shoulder and dark circles under his eyes. His hair looks unwashed and he’s pale, and yet somehow Louis still wants to devour him.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hey.” Louis lifts a hand awkwardly. “Liam’s not here.”

Harry nods, his curls bouncing on his shoulders. “I know. Work. Can I, uh, come in?”

"Sure.” Louis steps back, allowing Harry through the door and trying not to think about the way their shoulders brush together.

“So,” Harry begins, licking his lips. “This thing happened in my building. I think they said a pipe burst in the apartment above mine? It’s, like, completely flooded, and my super is shit, so who knows how long it’ll take him to get things fixed, and I kind of can’t stay there in the meantime, and—“

“Harry,” Louis cuts in, and he means for it to be sharp, but his voice comes out gentle, even fond. “Spit it out.”

Harry takes a deep breath. “I was wondering if maybe I could possibly crash here for a while?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading <3 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at liuhmpaynes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! You can find me on tumblr at brunettenialls.


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